Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev

Elysium Of Shades

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Elysium of shades this soul of mine,
Shades silent, luminous, and wholly severed
From this tempestuous age, these restless times,
Their joys and griefs, their aims and their endeavours.

Speak, O my soul, Elysium of shades!
What bonds have you with life? Speak, phantoms summoned
From out a day whose very memory fades -
What have you with this heartless mob in common?

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Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev